Here And There
by ShawThang
Summary: WIPBuffy has a choice. Will she choose her friends and family, or will she decide to stay in this new world where everything seems perfect?


**Disclaimer: You know the deal: not mine!**

**N/B: I was going through all my old folders the other day and found this little story I'd forgotten all about. I wrote it years ago, and I haven't re-written it or anything, but I thought I'd give it the attention it deserves and throw it out there for you to read. **

Here And There

**_Author: ShawThang_**

**Part 1**

* * *

Buffy sighed, silently cursing those three nerds for dragging her out here to find them. If they had only become obsessed with some sci-fi TV show like other nerds, instead of planning attempts on her life, then maybe she could be getting some sleep- something which she had not done in a long while. Off in the distance she could hear a horn blowing. Confused and curious, she crept around the side of the side street, following the sound of the low wailing. Suddenly, an ugly demon dropped in front of her. Its skin had a waxy glow to it and it glared at her through weird marble-like eyes.

"Oh, hi," she greeted it. "You didn't by chance happen to just eat a couple of nerds, did you?"

It growled it reply, advance towards her.

"I'll take that as a no, then."

Buffy ducked as the demon's fist swung towards her, narrowly avoiding it. It swung again but Buffy easily blocked it and countered it with her own. The demon attempted a roundhouse kick that she quickly ducked away from, and she shook her head.

"Uh, uh. That's _my _move, buddy. Get your own."

She reciprocated with a strong punch to its stomach, and followed it with a swift kick. The demon stumbled back a few steps, but quickly regained its balance and punched her. She went down hard, hitting the pavement with a sickening thud. She felt herself being lifted into the air, and before she knew it she had been thrown onto the hood of a parked car on the road. She sat up and kicked out, catching the demon on the chin. She took advantage of its disorientated state and leapt onto the roof. She winced as she heard the metal she had just been lying on crunch.

He was stronger than she had originally thought, and she had to give him credit for the mess he had made on the car. He tried to sweep her legs from beneath her but she hopped over them, sending him reeling with another kick. Gracefully flipping off the car, she grabbed a trash can lid and smashed it into the demon face. It howled and angrily tore it from her hands. He repeated her own moves and smashed it back into Buffy's own face, sending her flying into the car. The demon grabbed her from behind and she hastily spun around, kicking the demon through the car window.

She did not see the long spike until it was too late. The sharp bone pierced her shoulder and she cried out in pain. Then, as the full agony finally hit her, she screamed, closing her eyes against the blackness that was swallowing her.

* * *

"My Lady? Miss, are you listening to me?"

Buffy hesitantly opened her eyes, and found herself staring into Anya's worried face.

"A-Anya?" she stammered.

"Yes," Anya nodded, narrowing her eyes. "You seem to be daydreaming again, my Lady, but I was worried when I could not awaken you."

"Daydreaming?"

"Yes. How you could be daydreaming on a fine evening like tonight I know not. With all the excitement of your father's feast this evening, I am amazed you are so quiet. The servant girls are all a chatter, Miss. All week they have been gossiping about the guests who have arrived early, which I do not know how they find the time considering how busy we all are. But...Miss, how silly of me, you must let me finish your hair."

Buffy stared in horror at Anya as she babbled, taking in the rose pink gown she was clothed in. It was as Anya reached out to her that she took notice, with some amount of shock, of the room she stood in. The walls were made from a thick, blue stone, and the floor was cold and uneven beneath her feet. She slowly turned her head and flicked her eyes on the grand four-post bed with green, silken curtains suspended from the top of it. The material swept the ground and mingled with the similar material of the bedspread. Paintings of unfamiliar faces stared at her from the walls, and she rested her eyes on a particularly beautiful painting. The frame was a half-oval, and the rolling hills were tinted with gold by the setting sun. The sky was pink around the sun, but further away it was an intense blue. A black bird flew by, gliding in lazy circles, and Buffy realized with shock that she was not looking at a painting.

She was looking through a window. Crying out in shock, she rushed towards it, resting her palms on the edge on the window, gripping the hard granite tightly. Below her men were working in the fields, their laughter and bantering reaching her ears. Just beyond the fields Buffy could see a small village. A dirt road cut through the center of the village and small cottages sat on either side. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, and women bundled with baskets in their arms, while children played around their feet. A sharp horn blew from somewhere she could not see, but she leaned further out and saw soldiers standing watch at the tall towers on either side of her.

She was in a castle. That much was clear from where she stood, but she had no idea where this castle was located. It looked like something out of a period drama, and she shook her head in confusion. How had she come to be here? The last thing she remembered was fighting that hideous demon. She glanced down at her hands and saw that her knuckles were white.

"Miss? Are you all right? Shall I fetch the kitchen maid to bring you a draft?"

Buffy spun around to face the worried girl.

"Maid? Draft?" she repeated blankly.

"Yes, my Lady, the maid can get it for you..."

"What?"

"Are you ill, Miss?"

She thought quickly, deciding to play along. "U-uh, no, I'm fine."

"Well, you frightened me, you did," Anya said, shaking her head. "Really, my Lady, you are acting rather strangely today. Now come, we must see to your hair. It looks a frightful mess."

Buffy sat down into the seat Anya placed in front of her and stared at herself in the opaque metal. She looked herself, although her blonde hair was long and wavy, and the green gown she wore was embroidered with small intricate designs. She smiled wryly; obviously green was supposed to be her favorite color. She decided to risk making a fool of herself and question the humming girl behind her.

"Uh, An-" She stopped, suddenly realizing that she did not know if Anya went by that name in this world.

"Yes, Miss?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I just felt a little dizzy a moment ago. Would you be so kind as to tell me what year it is, so I know that I have not lost my mind?" She prayed that she had gotten the voice right. She found the formal speech strange and stilted.

"Why my Lady, it is the Year of our Lord 1185. Are you sure you do not need attending?"

She felt herself go limp as her head spun. "No, no Anya. I'll be fine. I was just che-uh, assuring myself that my head is in the right place."

She was in the twelfth century. How the hell had that happened? What had she done to be pulled back through time? She had been fighting the demon, that much she remembered, then she had thrown it into the car and it has spun around and-

It had stabbed her. She remembered clearly now. But why was she here, at this time...?

She felt a hard yank of her head and cried out.

"Sorry, Miss, but your hair is such a mess. Whatever have you done to it?"

"I-I do not know," she replied helplessly as her hair was pulled and yanked and manipulated into a high twist.

"There, all done," Anya announced, stepping back. "Oh, you do look lovely, Miss."

"Uh, thanks," she muttered, struggling to breathe in the tight corset she wore beneath the dress. Another horn sounded and Anya clapped her hands together delightfully.

"Oh, the guests have all arrived! They will all be making their way to the feast. You must hurry!"

Buffy frowned in confusion. What was she going to do? Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door, and Anya told her what she needed to know.

"That will be your escort now! Miss, you are so fortunate, having your own knight to escort you everywhere now. You will look so lovely when you are presented on his arm, you will."

Anya pulled open the door and ushered her out, where she came face to face with...

"Wesley?" she said in disbelief. He was a lot different to the egotistical, straight-laced Watcher she used to know. His hair was rough and looked like it had been given a quick brush, and there was short stubble surrounding his mouth. A frown marred his features and she instantly straightened, holding herself taller. "Uh, Sir Wyndham-Pryce. You are here to escort me, I presume?"

"Yes, my Lady," he replied, holding out his arm. She took it, as she hoped she was supposed to, and allowed herself to be led down a confusing amount of halls and staircases. He came to a stop outside two large, carved, wooden doors.

"Buffy!"

She turned around, and found herself being embraced by someone she never thought she would see again.

"M-mom?" she whispered.

"Buffy, you know better than to address your mother in such an informal fashion. That speech is commoner's speech, and I do not want to hear you use it in the presence of so many people."

She glanced over her mother's shoulder and into the scolding face of Giles. She fought the urge to utter his name, and nodded. She breathed in the familiar smell of Joyce's hair and grieved the loss when her mother finally released her. Giles stepped forward and embraced Buffy quickly, smiling as he inspected her.

"You look delightful, my darling daughter," he said, again embracing her, and this time she saw the fondness in his eyes.

Buffy's mind was whirling, trying to remember the facts being thrown at her. She was in the twelfth century, which country she was still unsure of, and she was the daughter of Joyce and Giles. In any other situation, that thought would have disgusted her, but she was too bewildered to think of that now. Anya was her maid or something and Wesley was a knight who had been chosen to escort her. She lived in a castle, and was apparently about to be presented at a feast.

"Mother, Father. I have returned just in time, I see."

Buffy turned to see none other than Andrew stride towards her. Giles heartily slapped his back.

"Son, it is lucky you have. Please join us!"

Andrew nodded and smiled at Buffy. "Sister, it has been long since we last met."

"Uh, yeah, it has," she stammered.

"The Lord and Lady of Abergavenny."

The booming voice came from behind the double doors, and Buffy felt her heart give a little jump of apprehension. The door swung open, and Giles and Joyce glided down the stairs that led to the enormous hall.

"Their son, Sir Andrew of—once again, Abergavenny."

Andrew followed them.

"And their daughter, the beautiful Lady Buffy. Her escort tonight, Sir Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."

Wesley gave her arm a short tug and she blushed, immediately following her parents down the steps. She watched her father slightly dip his head at the standing guests, but her mother remained facing forward, ignoring the crowds. She followed her mother's example and kept her eyes straight ahead. Her father and mother sat on a dais at the end of a ridiculously long table, filled with plates upon plates of gloriously smelling food.

She attempted to pull the chair away from the table, and with an embarrassing grunt realized that she could not. That answered her question on whether she was still the Slayer. She was as weak as a kitten, and it made her nervous. Wesley frowned and pulled the chair away from the table and gestured for Buffy to sit. She did so, unable to stop her stomach from growling. Wesley sat beside her, and then rest of the table followed. The hall filled with the sounds of chatter at once, and the cheerful strains of a flute began to fill the air.

Buffy watched all this with amazement, completely awed by the situation she was stuck in.

"Are you not hungry, my Lady?"

Buffy startled at Wesley's words, and realized that everyone had begun to eat.

"Um, no, yes...Yes, I was just savoring the delicious smell," she mumbled, noticing that no one was using cutlery, but ate with their fingers. She picked up a chunk of cooked meat and began to slowly eat it. All too soon the feast was finished, and attendants began to clear away the table. The table was moved to one side and the floor began to fill with dancing couples. Buffy was beckoned to her father's feet. She gave a curtsy as she had seen other ladies do so, and her father nodded in reply.

"Are you enjoying your evening, daughter?" he asked with an amused smile on her lips.

"Very much, sir," she replied, feeling more ridiculous than she had ever before.

"Indeed. Do you not wish to dance tonight? I recall your eagerness to dance only yesterday."

"Oh, y-yes sir, I would like to dance very much."

He nodded and exchanged a smile with his wife. "I believe Sir Wesley has asked for the first dance tonight. Would you do him the honor?"

Wesley appeared at her side and she jumped in alarm. "U-Uh, sure-" she stammered then collected herself. "I would be honored to do so."

She watched the other dancers, feeling a growing dismay as Wesley led her to the floor. He took her arm, placed it on his shoulder, and smiled at her cheekily.

"Do not be distressed if you do not yet know this dance," he said, comforting her with his strong grip on her waist. "Just follow my lead and let me guide you."

She nodded, biting her lip nervously. He began to step forward, then back, and she found herself shuffling to keep up. She stepped on his toes and flushed.

"Sorry, I-"

"Do not worry, my Lady," he said with a twinkle in his eye. He laughed. "You will learn this dance if it takes all night!"

As the night progressed, Buffy found herself enjoyed the dancing. She continued to make mistakes, but it did not faze her as it first had. Wesley's relaxed air made her feel better, and she did not get to rest for the next few hours. After she and Wesley had stopped, Buffy had been assaulted with requests to dance. Partner after partner, she was swung around the hall, and she found herself laughing giddily.

"May I have this dance, my Lady?"

Buffy glanced up and found her heart miss a beat when she saw Angel standing beside her. She nodded and gulped, allowing him to lead her.

"Are you well, Buffy? He asked over the music.

"Fine, and you?"

"Certainly," he smiled. "I apologize for not visiting you as much as I used to, Buffy, but I..." he trailed off, nervously licking his lips. "No, I do not want to ruin the surprise." He stopped dancing and pointed to a small, petite brunette, chatting with another woman. "I believe Winifred has been waiting to speak to you all night. I'm afraid that my wife is annoyed at me for not bringing her to visit you anymore."

Buffy felt her heart plummet at his words, but forced herself to smile. She tried to remember that this was not the same Angel as in her own world. "Well then, I shall have t-to speak with her."

She walked away quickly, hating herself for the tears that threatened to fall. The revelation that in this world Angel was married cut through her painfully. And not only that, but he did not seem to have even loved her. His eyes had softened with adoration as he watched his wife, and he had looked at Buffy like one looks at his baby sister.

She looked up and locked eyes with Angel's wife, Winifred. The other woman's eyes lit up with excitement as she pushed her way through the crowds towards her. Winifred embraced her, and Buffy weakly patted her back.

"Oh, Buffy! Many seasons have passed since I saw you last! You have changed, for the better, or course. More beautiful than ever."

The brunette felt familiar to her, and Buffy vaguely remembered her face. Where had she seen it? She racked her brains and was hit with the memory. This woman- Fred, her name was- worked for Angel. She had seen a photo Angel had sent Willow.

"It is good to see you too, Winifred," she said with a small smile.

"I have amazing news for you!" Winifred lowered her eyes to the ground and blushed.

"Well, don't keep me waiting all night, let's hear it," Buffy said, reverting to her normal speech. Her tone was harsh, but Fred did not notice, too wrapped up in her excitement.

"I shall give my husband a son before the year ends!"

Buffy felt her body turn cold as the enthusiastic brunette jumped ecstatically. This was what she had not thought possible but nevertheless dreaded from the moment that Angel had left her—hearing the news that Angel had fathered a child with another woman. She was devastated by Fred's pregnancy, but then chastised herself. This was not even her world. She did not know Fred, and in reality, Angel could not create a child. She frowned as Fred hopped away to speak with other women. She froze suddenly, when she realized what she had been doing. What was she thinking? This was not her world, nor her life.

Yet, she had been happy this evening and she had enjoyed herself more than she had in a long time. She had been free to have fun, without the worries of slaying or taking care of Dawn. It had felt good. She was hit with guilt as soon as the thought sprang to mind. Dawn was her sister for Gods' sake, not an obligation.

The music ceased at last. The guests began to retreat to their encampments, and once the last one had left Buffy was approached by her father and mother.

"Well, Joyce, I can see our daughter has become quiet the socialite," he said.

"Yes, I can see that she has."

"I had a wonderful time," Buffy murmured.

"Daughter, whatever is the matter?" Joyce said, coming forward with a frown when she noticed Buffy's preoccupation.

"Nothing. I am tired," she answered.

"Then retire to your chamber and sleep well, darling."

She kissed her parent's goodnight and retreated from the hall. Once she reached the doors, she realized that she had no idea where she was going. Exasperated, she glanced from side to side, trying to regain her bearings. Wesley appeared from one of the doors to her left and saw her.

"Do you wish to retire, my Lady?"

She nodded and was grateful when he led her back to her room. She was careful to remember the way for next time. After bidding Wesley goodnight, she opened her door and was pounded with question after question from Anya. She waved the girl away, saying that she would answer them tomorrow morning, and felt terrible for doing so. However, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to fall into her bed and sleep. She yawned as Anya unlatched her dress. She jumped away with a yelp.

"What are you doing?" she yelled.

"Miss, I am only helping you to get ready for bed," she replied, clasping her hands anxiously in front of you. "Are you sure you are all right, my Lady? You always let me ready you for bed."

Buffy shook her head. "No, not tonight. I-I wish to be alone."

She was sick of pretending. She had been acting the whole year, putting on a brave and smiling face everyday to put her friend's fears and worries at rest. She had lied, deceived, and pretended...and she was sick of it. She needed to be alone, and she did not want to put on a fake voice, or dress up in fancy clothes, or be ordered around by powerful men.

She slipped out of the gown and gratefully undid the corset. She breathed in, thankful to be able to breathe properly, and slipped on the undergarment left by Anya. Rubbing her sore hips, she felt into the large bed and promptly slept.

* * *

Buffy woke the next morning, stretching her arms above her head. Suddenly, she remembered the night before and shot upright, glancing frantically around her. She was sitting on her small bed, in the same room she had slept in since coming to Sunnydale. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes blearily. It had all been a dream. It had seemed so real, though. She had felt the rough gown, smelt the roast, and sweated as she danced.

The room spun as she sat up. She heard loud footsteps thud down the hall, and glanced up when the door was thrown open. Dawn's eyes widened when she saw her.

"Buffy! You're awake!" The girl threw herself onto Buffy, wrapping her thin arms around Buffy's neck.

"What...?"

"Buffy, you've been out for two days," Dawn said, and Buffy gaped. "You didn't come back from patrolling so we went looking for you. Xander found you unconscious and brought you back here." Buffy extracted herself from her sister's embrace. Dawn reached out and punched her arm. "I thought you were dead!"

"It's okay. _I'm_ okay," Buffy said, smiling to show the girl that she was fine.

"I'll go tell the others you're awake," she said, rushing from the room.

Buffy stared at the empty doorway. Two days? Had she really been gone for two days? She began to fidget nervously. What if it hadn't been a dream...? She gazed at herself in the mirror, then slowly raised her top. She gasped at the bruised, red skin running down her side and along her hips, exactly where the bodice had shaped the contours of her body. It wasn't a dream. She really had been in 1185, and she had worn a corset and gown and attended a feast.

"Buffy!"

She swung around to face Xander and Willow, flinging herself into their arms.

"What happened, Buffy?" Willow asked as the three of them made their way downstairs.

She slipped onto the stool and eyed the stack of pancakes hungrily. "I don't know," she admitted. "I was fighting this demon and it stabbed me with a bony spike thing. Then I wasn't...here anymore."

Xander, Willow and Dawn all stopped eating and stared at her. "What do you mean, not here anymore?" Dawn asked curiously.

"I was- " she lowered her eyes to her plate. "I thought it was a dream, but now...It wasn't. I was in 1185."

The kitchen was silent. Xander swallowed his mouthful of food. "1185?"

"Yep. 1185."

Willow stood up. "I'll get the books from the basement. I think we need to research. What did the demon look like?"

Buffy grimaced. "Waxy skin, I think. Weird looking eyes, though. Dawn, why don't you get the books?"

Dawn nodded and headed down to the basement.

Turning to face Xander, she shot him a sympathetic glance. "Are you okay, Xand?"

He widened his eyes in surprise, and she saw the pain flash through them. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened?" she asked gently. Willow moved to stand beside him, rubbing his shoulders. He sighed, hunching them forward.

"I lost it. I freaked..." he broke down, unable to speak any more.

Willow caught Buffy's eye. "He found Anya," she said softly. "He told her everything and how he felt, apologized and everything. She understood, but she said she needed some time away. She left and we haven't heard from her since."

Buffy slid off the stool and hugged her friend. "I'm sorry Xander."

"Not your fault, Buff," he said, smiling sadly.

"Here they are!" Dawn reentered the kitchen, breaking up their group hug.

"Good stuff Dawn," Willow said, pulling a heavy volume towards her. "Time to research!"

Buffy smiled as Dawn buried her nose in a book, and exchanged a proud grin with Xander. It seemed that Dawn was now becoming a permanent fixture in the Scoobies, and Buffy was willing to allow it if it meant the teenager was willing to research. She reached for one of the book and retreated into the living room, settling comfortably on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her.

She felt strangely dizzy and steadied herself. The room began to spin, nausea washed over her and then darkness claimed her.

* * *

"Heaven forbid you have fallen ill on this day, my Lady!"

Buffy shot up, and groaned as she noticed her surroundings. She was back in 1185, and a harried looking Anya was standing over her.

"Quick, Miss! You must hasten!"

"And why should I hasten, Anya?" she asked dryly, sliding from beneath the cool sheets. She flinched when her feet touched the cool stone, and shivered in the early morning air.

"Because the King of England is arriving any moment, Miss!"

Buffy shot out of bed, her whereabouts finally revealed. England. At least she had some vague understanding of the history of these regions. Recalling the name of the region Giles- she could not bring herself to call him father- had told her (Abergavenny) she calculated that she was not far from Gloucester, which was near the location of the King's castle. She knew that the Kings of England had been shrewd, brutal men, controlled by their desire for power, and she realized that despite this not being her world she would have to behave around the King, or find herself suffering the consequences.

She allowed Anya to help dress her and style her hair, feeling strangely downhearted that she had been speaking to Xander about the Anya in their world only minutes before.

"There you go, my lady," she stepped back so that Buffy could admire herself in the metal. "All prettied up, as usual."

"Thanks, Anya," she said quickly. "What happens now?"

Anya frowned and Buffy had to mentally kick herself for forgetting to use the formal voice she had become accustomed to last time she was here.

"Uh, I mean, shall we make our way down to the hall now?"

"Yes, Miss. I believe Sir Wyndham-Pryce shall be here any mom- Ah, there he is. Good evening, Sir," she said, bowing her head as Wesley entered the room.

"Ready, my Lady?"

She nodded nervously and took his offered hand. Allowing him to lead her towards the hall, she wondered what occasion called for this unexpected visit from the King. As they entered the hall there was no one to present her, and she saw Joyce and Giles speaking quietly at the end of the hall. She reminded herself firmly that while she was here she had to call them 'mother' and 'father', although the thought made her want to grimace.

"Buffy, dear, have you seen your brother?" her mother asked when she noticed her daughter's presence.

"No, mother, I have not."

"Sir Wesley, may I request that you find him and insist that he arrive in here immediately?"

"Yes, Lord Rupert." Wesley hurried away, leaving the three alone.

"Why is-" Buffy began, but stopped, taking a deep breath. "May I inquire as to the reason the King wishes to visit?"

Her father grinned. "Do not worry yourself, child. It is merely a visit the King has agreed to so that I may see his wife and her child. They are, after all, my daughter and granddaughter. It has been long since the day we last saw them."

Buffy could not form any coherent words, so she only nodded. Sister? Her child? Who could this be? She waited, rather impatiently, as the hours slowly ticked by. Andrew, who she could still not call her brother, came and went frequently, and the guests from the previous night began to once more trickle into the castle. Buffy felt like she was going to go insane if she sat there any longer, when a trumpet announced the King's arrival at Abergavenny.

She peered over towards the door, watching as a procession of soldiers marched down the stairs and into the hall. Finally, the King walked in and Buffy's shock was evident when her mouth dropped open. Oz paraded down the stairs, adorned in a rather dashing red uniform, his crown perched comfortably on his head. He seemed a bit taller than the Oz in her world (although that could just be the crown) not to mention a lot broader. Just when she thought there could be no more surprises, the Queen was revealed on the King's arm.

Willow. She looked ravishing in her red gown, and seemed confident as she passed her subjects. If Willow was the Queen, then she must be her sister. In this world, at least. Buffy smiled, anticipating Willow's—her Willow, that is—face when she told her of this. The King's jester jumped onto the table and announced their arrival. She looked on curiously as he announced the princess.

Buffy could not stifle the gasp as Dawn descended the stairs; her lithe, thin body and beautiful gown making her appear as a young woman. She had been unable to comprehend that Oz was the King, and now not only was Willow his Queen, but Dawn was a princess! That would mean that Willow and Oz were her parents—

Buffy rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous. Was everyone related to everyone else?

A thought occurred to Buffy as the King and his Queen made their way towards her. Had this really happened, and they had all been reincarnated? Had they all really lived before their present lives, in the bodies of people living in twelfth century England? She tried to remember those tedious history lessons in high school, but found that she could not recall a single thing about Old England. The only thing she did recall was the dull, monotonous voice of the old bag that had taught them. It did not seem likely that they had all lived before with the same names. Was it?

On the other hand, was this all just a dream, an illusionary world made in her mind from the demon's sharp talon? It would explain the weird coincidences, but she had never heard of a demon that could send a person into an alternative world, which could have a lot to do with the fact that she never listened to Giles' lecturing. None of this made sense, but Buffy could not bring herself to wish for home.

The King and his family sat on the dais usually reserved for Giles and Joyce—no, make that the _Lord _and _Lady _of Abergavenny—and the meal was laid out on the table. Buffy stared in horror at the amount of food, dreading the thought of eating more after the plentiful feast the night before. She picked at the food on her plate, vainly trying to keep from staring at her three 'royal' friends. Like the night before, as soon as dinner was finished the table was pushed to the side and the music began one more. Was this the only thing these people did?

She felt a soft hand touch her shoulder, and spun around quickly, nearly tripping over the long skirts of her dress.

"Willow," she breathed.

The redhead smiled coolly. "Sister mine, you are well?"

Buffy nodded, in awe of the poise and confidence Willow possessed. "Yeah, great. And yourself?"

"Fine," she replied smoothly. "It has been long since the last time we met. You have not grown taller, I see. Nor have you filled out your womanly possessions."

Buffy stared at the girl, her cheeks flaming with heat, as she understood what Willow had implied. This Willow was so different to the one back home; she knew her own Willow would never be able to speak so brazenly.

"Uh, no...It, uh, seems not," she stammered.

"Has father chosen you a suitor yet? I do believe he has waited far too long to marry you off, but then again, father has always held a soft spot for his _darling_ youngest daughter." The bitterness and sarcasm was evident in Willow's scorning voice. "Anyway," she continued breezily. "I believe my daughter has been anxious to see her favorite auntie." Willow turned on her heel and flounced away, leaving Buffy stunned into silence.

"Well," she muttered after recovering her voice. "Sisterly love abounds."

"You know how toilsome it has been for mother."

She looked up and saw Dawn standing in front of her, scowling wearily.

"Dawn!" She stepped forward, intending to hug her sister, or niece, or whatever the hell she was to her in this world, when she noticed the annoyance plain in the younger girl's eyes. "What's wrong?"

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "Your speech has turned funny. You have evidently been interacting with the commoners again."

Buffy shrugged, too worried about the bitterness in Dawn's voice to care much about how she spoke. "Yes, I have. What bothers you?"

"Nothing, Buffy," she replied dryly.

"Yeah, and I'm a six foot man," Buffy answered sarcastically, immediately regretting it when Dawn's eye's widened almost comically.

"Wha-"

"I know something bothers you, Dawn, so why don't you admit it?"

"Nothin-"

"Fine." Buffy sat down on a vacant chair and crossed her arms, watching the dancers. She struggled to hide her smug smile when Dawn sighed and planted herself on the seat beside her.

"They treat me as a child," she said finally. "I am a month to fourteen, and surely that is old enough to warrant as an adult."

"Why do you want to be recognized as an adult?" she asked.

"Because I tire of being protected like a delicate child!"

Buffy nodded. "I see why you are angry, but why do you wish to grow up so fast?"

Dawn shot her a quizzical look. "Why wouldn't I?"

Buffy sighed and uncrossed her arms. "Look at it this way, Dawn. Would you rather ride your horse over the countryside, or learn the ways of a mistress of a house? Would you prefer to learn everything now and wish for childhood when you are old and weary, or appreciate the freedom your youth gives you?"

Dawn was silent, and Buffy cursed herself for not saying the same thing to her own Dawn. She felt a pang of guilt, wondering what Dawn was doing back home. She had been researching with Willow the last time she had seen her. Had they even found her on the couch yet?

"Buffy?"

"Huh? What?" Buffy shook her head to see Dawn waving her hand in front of her face. "Uh, sorry, spaced out. What did you say?"

"I said, thanks."

"Thanks?" she repeated blankly. "What for?"

"Just because. Thank you. I always knew you were my favorite auntie."

'I'm your only auntie!" Buffy grinned. "At least, I think I am."

"You may be my favorite auntie, and my only one, but you sure are the oddest auntie I have."

Dawn stood up and bounced away, a smile having replaced the scowl on her face. Buffy frowned; her Dawn did not smile like that anymore.

Buffy slumped forward in bored exasperation, numbly staring out over the fields. How did the women in these times stand this? It was beyond boredom. After breakfast, if that is what they called it in these times, the King and Giles had retired to her father's study. Willow had taken leave and retreated to her room, claiming weariness from her travels. Dawn had disappeared with her chambermaid, leaving Buffy to her own devices. She had walked laps of the castle, irritating Wesley and amusing the attendants to no end. She now knew her way around the place, but it only took so many trips to memorize it. Now she was stuck in this prison of a room, doing nothing but listen to Anya chatter on about some Lord or another.

"Why her father agreed to their marriage is beyond me, when he has so little money and land. And then he—"

"Anya!" Buffy exclaimed, brushing back coifed ringlets away from her face. She saw the girl's abashed expression and immediately softened. "I'm sorry, but... I need to go now," she said firmly, resolutely walking from the room.

She tramped down the corridor in quite an unladylike manner, glumly examining the paintings, which lined the wall. She found herself standing before her father's study, and jumped back in surprise when he and the King opened the door. He shot her a sharp look.

"Daughter, what needs sends you to my study?" he asked.

"Uh, I was just wandering the halls," she returned, and with a small smile added, "Father."

"Why don't you call upon the stables, and take that pleasant mare of yours for a ride? You have neglected her for too long."

Buffy had a tremor of fear at the mention of horses, which was not helped by the suggestion that she actually ride it. But it was an offered proposal that answered her search for something to do, and though she knew she would not ride it, visiting the stables would do her no harm. She nodded and hastened away.

Moments later she escaped the confines of the castle and jogged into the fresh air of early afternoon. The sun was high overhead, beating down unmercifully on the wilting fields, and Buffy had to shield her eyes from the harsh glare. She strolled slowly down the dirt pathway, careful to stay away from the sharp thorns of the roses that lined it. She followed it towards the stables, already hearing the whinnying and snorts of the horses. Her nerves increasing with every step, she forced herself to keep walking, repressing her strong terror of the four foot beast.

She took a deep breath before pushing the door to the stable open and stepping inside. The stable reached further than she had expected, revealing row upon row of stalls, where a few horses were poking their heads out. The noises of the animals were louder now and Buffy hesitantly moved forward, throwing nervous glances over her shoulders as she passed the stalls.

"Buffy."

She spun around quickly, but her mind moved too fast for her legs and she stumbled, landing in a heap on the ground. She gazed at the owner of the voice in mortified horror, but her embarrassment soon turned to shock when she saw whom the voice belonged to.

"Spike?"

He shot her a confused look, and Buffy could not believe how different he looked. His hair was light brown and wavy; no more was the slicked back peroxide hair. His skin was a few shades darker, which told her that he was not a vampire in this existence. His stark blue eyes and his high cheekbones were much the same. He hurried over to help her up.

"My lady," he cried. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head as he lifted her to her fee, unable to pull her gaze away from him.

"Spike?" she repeated in amazement.

"You haven't called me that for a long time, my Lady," he said softly, helping her to her feet. He furrowed his forehead and she averted her gaze quickly, brushing the strands of hay that clung to her gown.

"Oh, right. Yes..." she trailed off, realizing that this meant they had known each other for a long time.

"You are here to see Arian?" he asked with a smile, and Buffy saw with surprise the way his eyes twinkled when he did so.

"Arian?" she said blankly.

"Yes," he laughed. "You have not forgotten the name of your own mare have you? Although, you have not visited for quite a while."

She forced herself to smile and laughed nervously. "Oh, Arian! Of course I remember her."

"This way then, my lady." He turned and led her down the aisle, patting the wet noses of those horses searching for attention. Finally he stopped at one of the stalls, flicking the latch and pulling the door open. "There you are; the beautiful, but neglected Welsh mare."

Buffy, despite her avid loathing of horses, could not help but admire the beauty and elegance the magnificent mare displayed. She was only eleven hands, which Spike absently told her was not very tall for such a graceful animal, but Buffy was craning her neck to see the height of the mare. Her coat was a glistening gray, groomed to utter perfection, and her white mane and tail were smooth and unknotted.

"Her name was a wonderful choice, my lady," Spike murmured appreciatively. "Not even I could have chosen a more suitable title. Arian- Welsh for silver."

Buffy was thankful that he seemed content to talk; he was giving her more answers this way than if she had asked him questions. She was thankful, that is, until he ran his hand along the mare's back and grinned impishly at her.

"Would my lady like to ride Arian?" he asked.

Her heart sank and she stammered incoherently. His eyebrows rose at her stuttering, and she inhaled deeply, trying to regain control of her mouth.

"Do not worry, my lady, I have not told anyone about your lack of skill in riding, although I intend to continue our lessons," he said, grinning, and Buffy could not help but expel a deep sigh of relief. So, she could ride in this world either. At least that gave her an excuse for her poor riding.

"Uh, that's good," she replied, nervously eyeing Arian as she stomped her foreleg and snorted.

"I shall ready her for your ride," Spike said. "Would you prefer it if I accompanied you?"

As much as Buffy wanted to say yes, she knew that she needed some time away from everyone, and everything, to think things over. "No," she replied. "I shall be fine."

He nodded and left before she could object to being left alone. She glared at Arian, mentally blaming her for getting her into this mess. "Thanks a lot, you silly old horse." Arian whinnied in response, lifting her head to stare challengingly back at her. She grinned. "You better not repay me for that comment while I'm riding you, 'ya hear?"

She summoned enough courage to approach the mare's head, and gingerly lifted her hand until her fingertips grazed her soft nose. Arian stood still, allowing Buffy to brush her fingers over her velvety coat.

"You're not so bad, are you girl?" she murmured.

"Not bad at all," Spike said from behind her and she turned to see him standing in the entrance of the stall with a saddle and a bridal on his arm. It only took a minute for him to ready Arian, and as soon as he had finished he clipped a rode to her bridal and led her out of the stall and from the stables. He walked her in a tight circle, and glanced over towards Buffy, who had followed them slowly.

"Up you get," he said as he tied the rope to a wooden fence. He stood in front of the saddle, and Buffy bit her lip and she approached him. What kind of a Slayer was she? She could slay vampires and demons and avert apocalypses every year, yet she was afraid of horses. She scolded herself and forced herself to lift her foot into Spike's hands, and gasped when he lifted her up. She swung her leg over Arian's back and landed with an ungraceful thud.

He stared at her. "Lord Rupert is going to kill me when he discovers I still let you ride like a man," he said, sighing. "Pleasant riding, my lady." He bowed slightly and handed her the reins. She took them with trembling hands.

Swallowing her plea for help, she sat straighter in the saddle and tried to remember those Western films Xander had always watched. The cowboys in them always held the reins in one hand, with the other resting on the thigh, but there was no chance in hell that she was going release her vice-like grip. Her knuckles were turning white, and her leg muscles were already sore from clinging to the mare's round torso. Spike unclipped the rope and gave Arian a friendly slap on the rump, causing the mare to jump forward into a leisurely walk. Buffy swung her neck around to watch Spike walk away, suddenly terrified at the thought of being alone with the beast beneath her. She faced the front again, watching Arian's head bob up and down.

After a quarter of an hour, the stable was still in plain view, and Buffy had eased her grip on the reins. She tried to relax her legs but as soon as she did she felt herself slip slightly, and immediately tightened her muscles. Arian leapt into a jolting trot, and she yanked back on the reins. The horse's head rolled back and she snorted in protest. Buffy apologetically gave Arian some rein, and patted her head. Once they had ridden for some time, her mind began to wander.

What was she doing? Here she was, in an alien world, a ocean away from where she should be, not to mention a couple of centuries, and she was going on a horse ride through the country side. She had not even tried to think of a way to get home. Did she even want to? She thought of the people at home, Willow, Xander, Dawn, hell even Spike. Were they searching for a way to stop this mess? They always came through in the end, and she clung to that thought. If they were looking for a way to stop her from entering this world, then she would not have to. After all, they had much more resources than she did. So why shouldn't she enjoy this small holiday, and make the most out of the twelfth century? And she had never been to England before.

She was satisfied with her conclusion and focused on her surroundings. She swiveled in the saddle and saw that she could no longer see the stable. At least she had made some progress, and she was no longer clutching at the reins like a mad woman. There was a small expanse of flat land, and Buffy dared to allow Arian to speed up. She hated the trot, but as soon as she applied more pressure to the mare's sides she sped up and Buffy found the liquid movements of the canter oddly soothing.

They reached the peak of the hill and Buffy saw the little village she had seen from her window. It was nestled between the hill and a flowing river, and there were tiny figures bustling through the main road. She urged Arian forward, and they descended the hill at a slow walk. On the border of the town, she had a sudden feeling that she was being watched. She twisted around, but saw no body.

Not wanting to take the risk of being followed, Buffy pretended to shrug and ride calmly into the village. She quickly pulled on the right rein, and Arian did a sharp turn between two houses. She weaved in and out of the houses, sometimes stopping or changing directions until she was certain that no one could have followed her.

A wave of weariness washed over her, and she gratefully slid from the saddle. She did not expect the lack of support in her legs, and fell awkwardly to the ground for the second time that day. Grumbling, she pulled herself up and grabbed at Arian's reins, despite the mare standing perfectly still. She crouched behind a wooden crate, peering into the street, ducking whenever someone looked her way. She was unsure of why she did not want to be seen. There was something niggling in the back of her mind but she couldn't pinpoint it. Raising her eyes above the crate, they rested on two people who were uncannily familiar. The sounds of their conversation floated across the street.

"Cordy, honey, I couldn't find the material you wanted."

"Xander, you know that our daughter needs a new dress. Her old one is in tatters!"

Buffy suddenly felt dizzy, and she swayed on her feet. No, not now, it could not happen now! But she could do nothing but scream as darkness surrounded her, and once more she fell into oblivion.

* * *

As Buffy came round she could hear the far off voices of her friends.

"Xander, this is the second time this has happened. We need to research!" Willow argued.

"We've searched every god damn book in this house and we have jack all to show for it, Will," Xander replied. "Why can't we just go beat up Spike for info?"

"Xander!" Dawn objected loudly. "We're not going to beat up Spike for anything!"

"Who's 'gonna beat me up?" Spike's voice came from further away, and the loud bang of a door slamming told Buffy that he had just arrived. "You, Harris?"

" 'Was thinking about it," Xander replied, and Buffy knew she had better intervene before the situation got out of control.

"How about we all lower our voices so Buffy's head doesn't explode?"

"Good idea, Will," Xander said.

"Uh, I didn't say it," Willow replied, and Buffy sat up with a groan.

"I did."

"Buffy!" All three of them rushed to her side, and when she opened her eyes she saw that she was still on the couch in the living room. Spike remained at the entrance, holding a black blanket, but when his eyes lighted on her she saw the concern etched within them. She was instantly reminded of two similar concerned eyes that gazed at her when she had tripped, but that was from another man, oceans and centuries away. She curiously wondered if Spike was like that Spike before he was turned.

"I'm good," she answered their unspoken question as she stood. The room spun slightly and she swayed on her feet. "Or not."

"Buff, what happened?" Xander asked, helping her to sit again.

" 'Same as last time. I was back in the good old 1185."

"Did you find out where, exactly?" Willow asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Buffy smiled, suddenly remembering the Willow of those times. "Yep. England."

"England?" she repeated with wonder.

"Yeah. And you won't believe what I have to tell you."

"I've missed something, didn't I?"

Buffy turned to face Spike. " 'Long story in ten words or less. Poked by demon, and now I get hallucinations of 1185, England. Get the picture?"

"Pretty much. But technically that was fourteen words including the numbers, pet."

"Shut up, Spike."

Will bit her lip and sank further into the couch. "What were you going to tell us?"

"Oh!" Buffy grinned wearily. "Well it seems I'm the daughter of the Lord of A-burger-many, or something."

"Abergavveny?" Willow corrected.

"That's the one. And get this; Giles is my dad. And-" Buffy stopped, suddenly aware of the effect her next comment might have on her sister. "Dawnie, mom was there."

Dawn's face paled, and her bottom lip trembled. "Mom?"

"Yeah. She was married to Giles and was my mother." Buffy gathered her sister into a hug. "She was beautiful, and she was happy."

Dawn nodded and moved to sit on the floor a few meters away from the couch. Buffy knew she felt suddenly ill at the thought of Buffy being given the chance to see her mom again, and her left only with the memory. Xander squeezed her shoulder and sat beside Buffy, who watched her sister sorrowfully.

"What else?" Dawn asked, with a false encouraging smile.

"Well," Buffy began. "The king came to visit. Apparently him and Giles are good friends. You won't believe who it was, though."

"Who?" Willow asked.

"Oz."

"What?"

"Oz."

"I heard you the first time, but I thought I was imagining things." Willow said. "Oz? A king?"

"Yes, and that's not the best part," Buffy said with a small smile.

Xander snorted. "What could possibly top the picture of Oz sitting on a throne with a huge crown on his head?"

"Willow sitting beside him as his queen."

"What?" both Xander and Willow exclaimed, and the three of them were in stitches.

"Buff," Xander said. "I've got to say that this world of your is pretty interesting."

Buffy nodded and noticed with some degree of surprise that Spike had moved to kneel beside Dawn while she had been talking, and was now soothingly rubbing the girl's shoulder. She pretended she did not notice, and was strangely glad that she had someone who she could trust to comfort her. Since Dawn did not confide in her anymore, Buffy was relieved to know that her sister did not keep her thoughts and feelings to herself, even if she was only confiding in a vampire.

"Yeah. Hey Dawn, did I mention you were the princess?"

Dawn immediately straightened. "No," she said slowly, a small smile pulling at her lips. "I think you forgot to mention that."

"Well, you are, and you should have seen how beautiful your dress was

."  
"Really?"

"Really, really."

"Um, Buffy," Willow interceded. "I know that it seems harmless now, but can you be sure that nothing bad can happen?"

She frowned, thinking about her friend's words. "No, I can't be sure."

"Maybe you should tell us what happened in this world."

Buffy nodded and told them the whole story, carefully leaving out the parts which included Spike's counterpart. For some reason she did not want to reveal this fact yet. The room was silent when she finished.

"Wow," Dawn breathed finally.

Willow nodded in agreement. "I think we need to—"

"Research?" the rest of the room finished in unison, and the redhead blushed sheepishly.

Only half an hour later Willow ran into the kitchen, where Buffy was whipping up a quick rice dish and Dawn was flicking through a leather-bound book, and brandished a small but thick volume.

"I found it!" she exclaimed, rushing to the sink where Buffy stood. Xander came from the living room when he heard his friend's cry and even Spike, whom Buffy was surprised to see, entered through the back door, the faint smell of smoke following him. "Look Buffy, I found the demon. Fits your description and symptoms perfectly. Is this it?"

Buffy grabbed the book from Willow's hands and stared at the familiar face. "Yeah."

"See, it's gonna be okay. Its pokey stinger carries an antidote to its own poison."

Buffy nodded as Spike offered to hunt down the demon and Xander threw him a scathing comment, and felt strangely detached as the two bantered across the kitchen.

Did she want to stop these hallucinations? They did seem harmless, whatever Willow believed, and they were only a bit of fun. She had to admit that she loved the freedom the countryside gave her, and relished the short escape from this world. She had wanted to get away from Sunnydale since coming back, and now she was not only getting away, but she was going further than she had dreamed of.

She thought back over the confusion of the last few days. Being in the bizarre new world had been daunting at first, but she had been strangely reluctant to return home the last time she had felt the familiar dizziness. There she could be normal, albeit the daughter of a Lord and friend to the King, but nonetheless a normal woman. All her friends were there, although in different standings, and they did not have to deal with being a Slayer's friend. There was no slaying, no vampires or demons, no watching family and friends die grotesque deaths. There was no heartache from killing lovers, no desire for death, no sacrifices to protect mystical sisters, and there was no way to return from Heaven. Maybe in that world she could grow into womanhood without the worries of a premature death.

Buffy pulled herself from her thoughts, guiltily watching her friends talk. Was she even considering...?

Afraid that the others might guess what she was contemplating, Buffy resumed her washing. There was a slight knock on the door. Dawn ran to answer it and she looked up expectantly when she heard two pairs of footfalls approach the kitchen. Dawn bounced in, smiling, and Tara followed her into the room.

"Tara!" Willow cried.

"Hey guys," she said.

"How you been?" Willow asked.

"Fine."

Buffy smiled at the other woman, glad that she was back. She had come to like the quite but helpful witch.

"Can I talk to you?" Tara asked Willow. She nodded and the two left the room. Xander turned to Buffy, raising his eyes.

"Think something might happen?"

"I'm counting on it," Buffy replied.

"I hope so," Dawn added. "I miss her so much!"

She glanced over her shoulder to the clock. She dropped the glass in shock when she saw what time it was, startling when it smashed onto the tiles loudly.

"Buffy?" Xander was immediately by her side, grabbing her arm with concern.

"Oh God, I'm going to be fired!" She cursed loudly as she pulled away from her friend's grip and rushed up the stairs. After flinging on her uniform, she gave her hair a quick brush and dashed from the house. She ignored the stares of those she passed by as she hurtled through the streets of Sunnydale and prayed that her manager would not be there. However, luck decided to desert her that day and send its evil twin. Unluckily enough, not only was the manager there, but also her employer, the owner of Doublemeat Palace.

As she panted from her exertion, her boss silently held out his hand and stared at her badge. She tried to protest, saying that important family matters had held up, but he was having none of it. She numbly handed over her badge and walked away, feeling the embarrassed stares of the customers boring into her back.

How could he fire her? She had no job now, and no job meant she had no income. And if she did not have money she wouldn't be able to support Dawn, and the child support worker would take her away. God, what was she to do? The door slammed shut behind her and she felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. Was this how she had ended up? Jobless, Watcherless, motherless, and soon to be sisterless; sleeping with a chipped vampire, and not worthy of staying in Heaven. If this was all that this life offered, then she did not want to be here. She did not want to exist for one purpose and one purpose only. She had spent six years disobeying the Slayer rule of fighting alone, and had fought to balance it with a normal life. And now all she was left with was the slaying.

She laughed bitterly. What a waste of time those years had been. Soon her friends would leave her alone, as they acquired jobs and got married, had kids, and she would still be in good old Sunnydale, slaying the undead residents. Was that what she had fought for? Was that the reason she had been plucked from Heaven? She dropped to her knees in the street, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of what the future held for her. She had given everything she had for this world—even her life—and it had given nothing back. Didn't she deserve a break? Didn't she deserve anything?

She realized that her cheeks were damp with tears and people were staring at her, but she did not care. Like they knew what she had been through. They could not even begin to grasp the concept of her life. She felt the onset of the familiar dizziness and smiled as the road spun in front of her. She was not afraid; this time, she welcomed it.

* * *

Spike wandered away from the Summers' house a few minutes after Buffy had left. He had made sure Dawn was okay after Buffy told her that she had seen Joyce, then he had left, followed by Xander's bellowed 'don't be late'. He wondered why he had agreed to team up with Harris to find the demon, then remembered that it was for Buffy. He could put up with an evening with the Whelp if it meant he was helping her. God, he would spend the rest of eternity with him if Buffy's life depended on it. He shuddered at the thought and shoved his hands into the pocket of his duster. Maybe he would stroll by her work and see if she was having a break soon. Smiling at the thought, he turned onto the street where the Doublemeat Palace was found, and stopped short when he saw her body crumbled to the pavement. He was sure his un-beating heart jumped. He tore down the path, rudely shoving people out of his way. He dropped beside her body and gently lifted her head into his lap.

"Slayer!" he barked. "Buffy, wake up, love."

He could hear her heart beating, and her chest was rose and fell with every breath she took. She was alive and that was all that mattered at the moment. He picked her up and scanned the area, sighing with relief when he saw that they were near the cemetery where his new crypt was. He carried her there, dreading the upcoming confrontation with the Scoobies when he told them that she was in his crypt. He would probably be staked on the spot, if not dusted by one of Willow's fireballs. He left her on the sarcophagus and silently apologized for leaving her alone. Then he ran.

Spike burst through the Summer's front door only minutes later, knocking Willow over as she carried a book into the living room where Tara was sitting. He disentangled his limbs from hers and offered her a hand.

"Sorry, Red, but the Slayer's in trouble."

"Buffy?" She sounded alarmed. "Get Xander and Dawn from the kitchen. Where is she?"

"My crypt," he replied over his shoulder as he entered the kitchen. He repeated what he had told Willow and they immediately followed him into the living room.

"What kind of trouble?" Xander asked.

"Dunno," he answered with a shrug. "Was walking past that food joint when she ran out onto the street and passes out flat on the sidewalk."

"She's had another hallucination," Willow said. "We need to get to her now, and find this demon, otherwise she'll be stuck in this other world."

* * *

"When will the pretty lady wake, mommy?"

"I don't know honey. Go eat your dinner, it's getting cold."

"But mom-"

"Shhh. Hurry along now."

Buffy groaned as the voices began to penetrate her hazy mind. The pounding in her head was constant and intense, and she was sure that it would explode if she didn't swallow twenty painkillers. She balled her fists and it was only after she had fully woken that she understood what had been said. She opened her eyes and groaned again.

"This is starting to get old," she mumbled.

"My Lady, how are you feeling?"

She tilted her head forward and saw Cordelia. Her face was thin; her cheeks were tight against her cheekbones. Her hair, once glowing and styled, was matted and tied back with a piece of string. Her clothes, once the latest fashion, were ripped and torn, sewed together with a thick needle and covered with a patch. It disorientated Buffy so much that she gaped.

"Cordelia?"

Her eyes narrowed, and fear flickered through them. "How do you know my name?"

"Um…" She looked around and took in her dingy surroundings. "Where am I?"

"My husband found you behind our house, I think you must have passed out of something. He brought you in here. I know you'll probably run to your father and have him whip my husband for daring to touch you without giving a thought to how he might have saved your life." Her voice became harsh and an ugly expression crossed her face.

"Cordelia," Buffy interrupted. "In no way or shape will your husband be whipped."

"Oh," was all she said, but Buffy saw how relieved she was. Was that how the wealthy dealt with their frustrations and problems in the twelfth century? By whipping people? It made Buffy sick. And it made her sick at how different Cordelia was in this world. Even when Cordy lost everything she hadn't lost her confidence, or her feistiness. This Cordelia had a bitter chip of her shoulder.

"Cordelia, honey!" Xander strode into the room, and Buffy had to restrain herself from jumping into his arms. For some strange reason she felt the need to hug him. She put it down to being in a strange place but she couldn't shake the feeling. He looked the same as her Xander at home, but there were so many things that did not seem right. His body was lanky and lean, and his eyes held a certain weariness that spoke of years of pain. He stopped short when he saw her struggling to sit upright on the bed. "My Lady, you are well?"

"Fine," Buffy answered as she stood upright, brushing the creases from her soiled gown. "I want to thank you for helping me."

Xander's cheeks flamed with crimson. "It was a pleasure ma'am. Are you well enough to walk? Otherwise you should return to the bed at once. Or perhaps you would like to stay at the inn, considering the state of this bed..."

"No," Buffy assured him. "I am well enough to stand, and the bed was perfect."

Cordelia bowed her head, graciously accepting the compliment. "Now you must try to eat something. I only have a slice of bread and stew from last night. Would you like some?"

Buffy gulped, feeling queasy at the thought of consuming anything solid. "No, no, thank you. I do not feel like anything to eat, but maybe I could have a drink?" Cordelia nodded and walked from the room, leaving Xander to stand awkwardly by the doorway. She returned a moment later, with a metal cup that looked like it had seen better days. Buffy reached for it and took a sip, gagging as the fiery liquid slid down her throat. It was brandy, or something like it. She glanced up at the couple, her eyes watering. "Maybe I could have some water?" she asked weakly.

Cordelia nodded and left again. Xander stepped forward. "I should call you father's guard, my lady. I believe that they will already be searching for you, since you have been missing for the whole day."

"Whole day?" Buffy exclaimed. "What is the time?"

"An hour or so past sunset. You must have hit your head fairly hard to have been asleep for so long."

"Yes, I believe I did," she murmured, finally remembering where she had been before she had woken. She had just been fired. Dawn was probably at home wondering where the hell she was, and Giles and the others were more than likely becoming worried. She wondered if Xander and Spike had managed to capture the demon. Pangs of worry shot through her. What if she wasn't ready to leave behind this new life? What if she didn't want to?

She settled back onto the bed after thanking Xander, and was surprised when two young children slipped into the room.

"Are you really Lady Buffy?" the young girl asked, her dark plaits bouncing as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

Buffy nodded, a small smile coming to her lips as she eyes widened.

"I head you were really pretty," she said.

The young boy edged forward, clasping his chubby hands in front of his stomach. "Do you...Do you live in the castle?" he asked.

She nodded again. "Yes."

He broke into a brilliant grin that reminded Buffy of the younger Xander of 1997. The girl was a replica of her mother, but her eyes were that of her father.  
"I'm sorry for the intrusion," Cordelia said as she entered the room with a cup of water, although she didn't seem very sorry at all. "I didn't know the children were out of bed."

"Oh, they're alright," she protested, smiling at the abashed children. "They're great kids."

Cordelia smiled gently at her two children before ushering them from the room. "The castle guard has been informed and should be arriving soon."

Buffy thanked her and Cordelia hurried from the room. She stood up, walked over to the small, wooden desk in the corner, and fingered the knitted doily. A tiny box sat on top of the drawers and she glanced over her should towards the door before peeking inside. There was a single ring, plain and silver, but tinged with red rust. She thought that maybe it was a wedding ring.

There came a loud thundering from outside and she hurriedly shut the lid. She moved to stand beside the window and saw a cloud of dust moving towards the small house. The dust cleared and settled behind the garrison of riders, and Buffy recognized Angel as he dismounted.

Xander strode out to meet him and pointed to the house. Buffy shied away from the window as Angel squinted to where Xander pointed. She smoothed her gown again, raised her hand to her hair and, feeling that everything was in place, walked through the house, holding her head high as a 'lady' should. Cordelia followed her slowly, stopping when she reached the end of the path. Angel rushed to meet her, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.

"My lady, are you ill?"

"No," she waved away his concern. "Just a little tired."

"We must escort you back to the castle immediately. There was to be an announcement at night meal but it was foregone until you were found. We must make haste."

"Fine, but can you please give me one moment?" He nodded and she walked back to the door, where Cordelia was now wrapped in Xander arms.  
"Thank you for taking care of me," she said, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"You are quite welcome, my lady," Xander replied, nodding his head slightly. "I hope you are well soon."

Buffy, in a moment of wistfully missing Xander, and strangely enough, Cordelia, jumped forward and wrapped her arms around them both. They stiffened in surprise, but then shyly embraced her.

"I will be back for another visit soon, I promise."

They nodded and Buffy reluctantly let them go. She waved as she hurried to where Arian was standing. She felt a pang of guilt that she hadn't even given the poor mare a thought since waking. Arian must have waited outside the cottage while she was unconscious. Angel gestured for her to hurry, and they rode back to the castle with all haste. Buffy rode beside Angel the entire trip and he constantly questioned her wellbeing. After many assurances he seemed to be convinced and they rode the rest of the way in silence. When they entered the castle grounds Buffy saw Spike waiting for them.

"My Lady!" He jumped from his perch above the fence and hurried to meet them. "I heard that you were ill."

"I'm afraid I was, but I feel better now," she replied, swinging from Arian's back. Spike held the mare's bridle and bowed his head.

"And I am glad."

Buffy was once more astounded by the difference between this-Spike and Spike. Where Spike was loud and obnoxious, this-Spike was reserved and courteous. While Spike came right out and said what he thought, this-Spike beat around the bush with careful words. His brown wavy hair softened his face and the pink tinges on his cheeks made him look alive. It struck Buffy that in this world, or time, he _was _alive.

**End of Part 1**


End file.
